


Longbottom's Progress

by mad_martha



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Humour, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-28
Updated: 2011-08-28
Packaged: 2017-10-23 04:42:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mad_martha/pseuds/mad_martha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neville has an unexpected encounter with a classmate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Longbottom's Progress

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on a fanfic written by [MadamBeetroot](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MadamBeetroot/pseuds/MadamBeetroot) called [Longbottom Pride](http://archiveofourown.org/works/251691). After many discussions with her about her story, I dreamed up this scenario but is NOT an official sequel. I've taken gross liberties with the characters and scenario, so it's very much AU. While I think this story probably makes sense on its own, I strongly recommend reading _Longbottom Pride_ first to get the fuller experience.
> 
> [Story originally posted circa 2004]

"I thought you only got detention for the morning."

Neville jumped and watched with a mixture of annoyance and resignation as the box of side-shoots he'd spent an hour plucking from the Fruiting Bat-Fly Plants cascaded over the packed earth floor. A couple of years ago he'd have made frantic attempts to catch them, and possibly even made matters worse, but these days he didn't bother to try. He'd learned to accept spills and accidents, and equally accepted that picking things up repeatedly was just the way his life had panned out.

"And I thought you'd gone to Hogsmeade with Dean and Harry," he replied, as he stooped to scoop up the cuttings.

Seamus looked a little sheepish. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make you jump."

"S'okay. I'd have fallen over my feet in a minute anyway."

And wasn't that the truth? Neville felt just a little bit grumpy though, and consequently didn't try to batter down the cynical thought as he would normally do. He didn't particularly feel like socialising with anyone today, but high on the list of people he _really_ didn't want to have one-on-one conversations with was Seamus Finnigan. Possibly he didn't want to talk with Harry even more, but really there was only a whisker's difference in it. You do not come out to a group of people, let alone confess guarded attractions to two of them, and feel normal in their company for some time afterwards. Especially after your treacherous tongue has let slip an embarrassing secret about one of them, which someone else then tells the whole breakfast table the next morning.

In fact, it was probably that which had brought Seamus out here in the first place.

"Look, if this is about the leather trousers thing – " Neville began.

"What? No!" Seamus looked surprised. "Nah, I just ...." He paused, turned a little pink, and rubbed the side of his nose self-consciously.

Neville stared at him, perplexed. "If it's not that, then what? Is it about me being gay? Because I already told you, I won't - "

"Nev," Seamus interrupted, "shut up a minute."

A little red-faced – though not nearly as red-faced as Seamus – Neville shut up and waited.

And waited.

Seamus didn't seem able to make his mind up what to say. He looked anywhere but at Neville and rubbed his hands on the seat of his jeans in a nervous gesture. Neville wished he wouldn't, because it kept drawing his eyes to an area he felt sure Seamus would prefer he didn't look at.

Finally he lost patience with the Irish boy and shrugged. "I've got plants to feed."

"No, wait!"

Neville gave him an exasperated look. "Seamus – "

"I'll give you a hand," Seamus offered lamely.

This was too weird. He wondered for a moment if his sandy-haired dorm-mate had been into the stash of extra-strong Butterbeer Ron's brothers had given him for his birthday.

"I don't think so," he replied, with exaggerated patience.

"I can hold a watering can!" Seamus protested indignantly.

"I know, but I'm going into Greenhouse 6," Neville told him, and he rather guiltily enjoyed Seamus's sudden alarmed expression. Greenhouse 6 held all the man-eaters, and Neville was one of the few pupils who had a pass to go in there without Madam Sprout's supervision.

"Okay, maybe I'll just wait outside," Seamus muttered.

"I could be a while," Neville pointed out, wondering what on earth the other boy could have on his mind that he would be willing to kick his heels outside a greenhouse in order to say it.

"Why?" Seamus followed him down to the storage shed where all the tools and fertilisers were kept and watched uneasily as Neville pulled open a cool box and began to fill a large tray with cuts of meat.

"You don't make any sudden moves in front of meat-eating plants, Seamus. Don't you ever listen to what Madam Sprout says in class?"

The Irishman grinned at him. "You sounded just like Hermione then."

Neville felt himself turn red. It was true that he spent a lot of time with Hermione, who was one of the few people who didn't treat him like an idiot, but he didn't realise he'd picked up the hectoring tone she used when she was lecturing anyone.

"So, when you've done that, you're finished, right?"

Neville gave him another perplexed look. Why was he so keen? He'd have thought Seamus would be trying to keep as much distance between them today as possible.

"No, when I've done that, I've got to shovel a pile of dragon dung into the compost heap."

" _Shovel_ it? Why don't you just use magic?"

 _Why don't you just stop asking annoying questions?_ Neville thought irritably, but didn't say it. "It's dragon dung. It can explode if you don't handle it properly."

He didn't add that the first time he'd been asked to move it, he'd screwed up the levitation charm and nearly blown up the entire herbology complex. Ever since then, he'd moved the stuff manually rather than risk it happening a second time. There was a good reason why he had shoulders like one of Harry's "rugby players".

Seamus rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay! Show me where the shovels are. I'll start moving the dung while you feed your man-eaters."

Neville stared at him in disbelief. "Okay, what's the joke?"

"Huh? There is no joke."

Neville was beginning to get annoyed. Was Colin Creevey hanging around somewhere with his camera, waiting for something to go wrong, so everyone could have a good laugh?

"I'm serious, Seamus. This is a wind-up, isn't it? There's no way you could possibly want to spend an afternoon shovelling dragon dung, so - "

"An afternoon?" Seamus snorted. "Look, I'm Irish – we _invented_ the shovel. If I can't move that pile of dung in under an hour, I'll – I'll declare my undying love for Millicent Bullstrode at dinner tonight."

The image had a certain charm, but Neville felt that he wasn't ready for another confrontation with the Slytherins so soon.

"I won't hold you to that," he sighed, and showed Seamus the dungheap.

There was an awe-struck pause. Then:

"That is one _big_ heap of shit."

"They're _dragons_ ," Neville reminded him, a little amused. "They're hardly going to pop out rabbit-sized droppings, are they?" He handed the other boy a shovel from where it was propped against the wall. "I'll leave you to it, shall I?"

He left Seamus contemplating the mountain of dung with saucer-sized eyes and had reached the door of the storage shed before his good-nature got the better of him. He turned back, intending to speak, and instead found himself trying not to laugh. Seamus was holding the shovel in both hands, but clearly he didn't know where to start.

xXx

"I wasn't really going to try and move _all_ of it today, you know."

" _Now_ he tells me," Seamus groaned, straightening up and leaning on his shovel. At some time during the past hour he'd taken off his robe and the t-shirt underneath, and his torso was gleaming with sweat.

Neville took one look at him and hastily refocused his gaze on the dung heap instead.

"You've made a good start," he offered lamely.

"Don't rush to overwhelm me with your praise," Seamus told him dryly. "Grab a shovel, why don't you? There's plenty of crap for everyone."

He looked a little surprised when Neville did exactly that, though.

"No wonder you're built like a house," he commented a minute or two later, after watching Neville wield the shovel with a will. He shrugged and dug back in himself. "This stuff really stinks," he puffed after a few minutes of silent effort.

"It's dung. Of course it stinks."

"No, I mean it _really_ stinks. My Granddad keeps horses and their dung doesn't smell as bad as this."

Neville pondered this. "Maybe it's because dragons are meat-eaters. The compost in Greenhouse 6 smells pretty horrible too, not like the stuff in the other greenhouses."

"Huh."

They dug on for another five minutes, before Seamus added, "It's bloody hot too. Look at the steam!"

"It's all the oojums inside it," Neville told him knowledgeably. "Makes it combustible."

Seamus snickered. "Oojums. Right."

"Shut up! I haven't swallowed a dictionary like Hermione."

"Thank God for that! I couldn't take another one jawing on at me like that about homework."

"Hermione's alright. She means well."

Seamus grunted, unwilling to concede the point but not about to argue it either.

They kept digging for another fifteen minutes before Neville stopped and straightened up.

"I think that's probably enough," he said, resting on his shovel for a moment. "That's a good third of it, and if we go any further we'll reach the really hot stuff in the middle." He dragged the tail of his t-shirt up to mop his face. "I think I've had enough accidents this week, without having to show Madam Pomfrey a set of burns as well."

"Works for me," Seamus said, relieved, and they went to put their shovels in the shed.

"We're going to be really popular in the common room tonight," he commented, when they re-emerged. He sniffed at his t-shirt and robe which, despite having been hung on a post some distance from the heap, still held an unsubtle aroma.

Neville had to admit that they both smelled pretty high. "There's a rainwater cistern behind the herb garden. We can try and clean up a bit in there first."

"So what it was you wanted to say earlier?" he asked, as they trudged down the gravel path to Madam Sprout's herb garden.

"Oh … erm …." Seamus was suddenly red-faced and tongue-tied again.

Neville rolled his eyes. "Forget I asked."

"No! I just - it's - um - "

This _had_ to be something to do with him coming out yesterday. Neville had never known Seamus be at a loss for words before.

"No, really. Forget it - it doesn't matter. Let's just get washed."

The rainwater cistern was a square stone tank the size of a small pond situated in the corner where two walls of the herb garden met. The sides were about four feet high, but it was considerably deeper than that, the bottom being several feet below ground level. The surface of the water was dark and mirror-like, and over a foot below the edge of the wall. Neville had to hitch himself up a little onto the wall and lean over to scoop water up to splash himself with.

"I just wondered - well - what it's like being gay."

Taken by surprise, Neville lost his grip on the wall. He plunged forward, arms flailing, and fell straight into the cistern with a cry of alarm.

For several moments he thrashed helplessly, then someone grabbed his shirt and dragged his head back above the water.

"Nev! _Neville!_ "

He spluttered and coughed, spitting out brackish water. Then the world zoomed back into focus and he realised that he was draped over the side of the cistern with Seamus peering at him anxiously and thumping his back at intervals.

Shit. He'd done it again.

"That's one way to get the dung off," Seamus offered with a weak grin, when he saw that the other boy was all right. "Sorry, mate. I didn't think you'd jump like that."

It took two or three attempts before Neville could drag himself out of the cistern, then he stood on the path beside it, panting and dripping. Great. Now he was going to get screamed at by Filch for leaving water on the floor. All because of this great Irish prat's hang-ups.

"What do you mean – _what's it like being gay?_ " he wheezed indignantly. "What kind of a question is that?"

He must have looked unusually fierce because Seamus backed away, raising his hands.

"Easy Nev! I was only asking!"

"You bloody great - ! I don't _know_ what it's like, do I? It's not like I've got some wild, secret sex life going on here! I'm not having a mad affair with - with - " for a moment his imagination failed him, then he plumped on the first names that came to mind, "Malfoy or - or Snape or - "

 _"Snape?"_ For a second Seamus stared at him, incredulous, then he let out an explosive snigger. "S-Snape! With a sex life?"

That was it. Seamus was off into whoops of laughter.

Neville stared at him, bewildered. Okay, so he didn't personally find Snape attractive, but he couldn't see what was so funny about it. Surely it wasn't _that_ big a stretch to imagine the man having some kind of love life? His Aunt Matty always said that there was someone for everyone, after all.

Honestly, Seamus was so immature. At least he hadn't suggested Malfoy was incapable of getting any. Actually - and God forbid any Gryffindor should ever find this out - but Neville thought the Slytherin was quite attractive, physically. It was the foul mouth on the little swine and his malicious personality that let the rest of the package down, but if you could just stick a silencing curse on him and stuff him in a glass cabinet, he'd be quite ornamental.

And Neville was _very_ grateful that Malfoy hadn't had the time to get to _that_ entry in his diary. He'd probably have been hexed six ways to Christmas by the Slytherin if he'd read that.

When Seamus's laughter showed no signs of abating, Neville grabbed his shoulder and gave him an impatient shake.

"It wasn't _that_ funny! What's the joke?"

Seamus had to take a couple of gulping breaths before he could control himself enough to say, "I was just - trying to imagine you and - and Snape. You'd have to be a bloody masochist, Nev!"

Neville glared at him for a moment - and then an image suddenly sprang into his head of him and Snape …. He grinned reluctantly. No, definitely _not_.

"I'd have to be _suicidal_ ," he corrected him. "Look, are you going to wash some of that muck off now or what? Because I want to get back to Gryffindor and get a shower before all the others get back from Hogsmeade."

"Wash … right." Seamus snorted back another laugh and leaned over the edge of the cistern to splash himself.

Neville waited until he was half dangling over the wall - Seamus was several inches shorter than him - before asking innocently, "So, what's it like being straight?"

Seamus yelped, lost his grip and tipped head first into the cistern.

xXx

They avoided Filch on the way back to Gryffindor Tower, although how, Neville didn't know. He wasn't usually that lucky. They collected a scold from the Fat Lady, though, who was not amused at being woken from her afternoon nap and even less amused when she saw the state of them.

"You can't go tracking all that water across the carpets, you two!" she told them crossly. "Have _some_ consideration for your Housemates! And I don't know _what_ you've been doing, but you smell atrocious."

"We've got to come in to get to the showers," Neville pointed out, but he felt a bit guilty. "Unless … we could use the showers in the Quidditch locker rooms I suppose," he said to Seamus doubtfully.

"No, we couldn't," the Irish boy retorted. "The Slytherins have a scheduled team practice session in half an hour. I'm not getting stuck in the locker rooms with _that_ lot. Come on - I've another idea."

Neville had some serious qualms when he saw Seamus's cheerful expression, but he followed him down corridors and up stairs until they came to a statue of Boris the Bewildered on the fifth floor. Taking a quick look around to make sure they were unobserved, Seamus muttered something to the door and turned the handle.

"Come on - "

Now Neville was convinced they were doing something they shouldn't, but going inside seemed a better option than waiting around to get caught by Filch, Peeves or - worst of all - Professor Snape.

Seamus shoved the door shut behind them quickly and it closed with a quiet _clunk_ , leaving the two of them standing just inside an enormous room of white marble lit by a big crystal chandelier. Neville blinked around, staring at the deep, sunken, swimming-pool sized bath, the golden fittings, the springboard, the endless white marble, white curtains, white towels ….

"What _is_ this?" he breathed. This was the most stunning bathroom he'd ever seen, but a sense of panic seized him almost at once. This had to be a teachers' bathroom or something -

"Prefects' bathroom," Seamus replied, before he had time to even consider bolting.

That was only slightly better.

"But we're not prefects!"

"So? They're all in Hogsmeade!" Seamus seemed unconcerned.

"But how did you - "

"Dean gave me the password months ago." Ignoring the other boy's alarm, he crouched down by the side of the tub and turned one of the taps, releasing a multicoloured stream of water and bubbles. He glanced back up at Neville, grinning. "I've been dying for an opportunity to try this! Harry told us about it back in Fourth Year, don't you remember? There's one tap that's supposed to make great big arches - "

"I remember him saying that Moaning Myrtle comes in here sometimes," Neville reminded him. "I'm not getting my kit off in front of her!"

"Aw, live a little!"

And Seamus began to strip his clothes off.

This was horribly embarrassing for Neville. Okay, he was used to seeing any or all of his dorm-mates undressed; you could hardly avoid it when you shared living space and washing facilities with them every day, and while he wasn't always comfortable, he could deal with it. Indeed, over the last three or four years, as they all progressed through their teens, there had been one or two spectacularly embarrassing moments for them all. He'd survived it. They all had.

But overnight things had changed. Before, while he would have tried to avoid being in a situation where he saw any of them naked - and especially Harry or Seamus - it wouldn't have been a disaster. Today, after his confession about his sexuality, it was a distinct problem. Worse, Neville couldn't help thinking that Seamus was doing this deliberately.

Why, he couldn't imagine. After all, it had been Seamus who seemed to have the biggest problem with him being gay, Seamus who had expressed concerns about sharing washing facilities, Seamus who had sidled up to him and said that he'd have to think about this in spite of still being Neville's friend. And yet it was also Seamus who was currently hopping on one foot as he tried to tug his jeans off ….

Neville tried turning his back, but there were a lot of mirrors in this bathroom and it seemed that whichever way he turned he could see Seamus stripping off from different angles. He ended up staring rather fixedly at the marble beneath his scuffed trainers.

"Aren't you getting in?"

"Um …."

Neville took a cautious glance over his shoulder and saw to his relief that the Irish boy was finally waist-deep in thick, foamy water. He was fiddling with the taps again and had just switched on one that did nothing but squeeze out big, wobbly bubbles that burst mid-air in showers of fragrance.

"This is brilliant!" Seamus said, with great satisfaction. Then he looked at Neville, who was still hovering on the edge of the tub, red-faced and fully-dressed. "Oh, for crying out loud!" He made an exasperated chuffing noise and pointedly turned his back so that he was staring at the only unmirrored wall. "Honestly! To think I was worried you'd been watching us all in the showers …."

"Yeah, you got over that fast," Neville muttered, but he toed his trainers off and stripped out of his t-shirt and jeans. There was a dithering moment when he strongly considered keeping his boxers on, but in the end he hopped out of them and scuttled into the tub as quickly as he could.

Being able to sink beneath the thick layer of foam eased some of Neville's self-consciousness but not all of it. He wasn't used to the quasi-intimacy of bathing with someone else. Gryffindor Tower boasted several bathrooms, and the Seventh Year boys and girls had facilities reserved just for their dorms. A lot of horsing around together went on in there, but Neville never joined in; he was too conscious of his penchant for accidents and preferred to stay out of the way. Also, Dean, Seamus, Ron and Harry might cheerfully fool around together semi-naked or naked and never give it a second thought, but Neville was definitely body-shy and found it hard to relax in a shared tub.

Seamus didn't seem to notice. He was too busy trying out different taps and chatting up the painting of the mermaid on the wall, although to Neville's relief she seemed inclined to be shy and hide behind her seaweed fronds when she realised there were two boys in the tub. Seamus tried to coax her out but, unknown to him, Neville was frowning at her discouragingly and eventually she decided to swim out of her painting altogether. Disappointed, the Irish boy swam back to join Neville at the edge of the pool.

"Not bad this, is it?" he commented, and he amused himself by trying to balance some of the huge, colourful bubbles on his hands without bursting them.

"A bit fancy," Neville said cautiously. Fancy things made him nervous; he was always afraid he would break something.

"Yeah, it makes a nice change."

There was a long pause. It was Neville who finally broke the silence, conscious of the awkwardness.

"Why did you ask me about being gay?"

It was not a good choice of question. Seamus at once looked uncomfortable.

"Oh ... you know. Just curious."

"Curious enough to miss a Hogsmeade weekend and dig dragon dung?" Neville raised a brow at him. "Come off it!"

A tiny, embarrassed grin crossed the other boy's face. "Oh, well ...."

"The other day you were more worried that I was somehow eyeing you up in the showers, and now you're actually _in the bath_ with me. And this was all your idea. So what's going on?"

"Maybe there isn't anything going on," Seamus suggested. "Maybe I just wanted to talk to you."

Neville was tempted to point out that Seamus had never once in their seven years at Hogwarts been overcome by such an urge before, but he had already been as blunt as he dared today and even that had been unusually frank for him. So he kept his mouth shut; it was easier and he was less liable to put his foot in it.

The silence stretched out for a while and became uncomfortable again.

Finally Seamus burst out: "Okay. Maybe I just wondered how you knew."

Neville's brow furrowed. "Knew _what?_ "

"That you were gay, you prat!"

"Oh." And Neville reddened again. "How do you think I knew? How did you find out you were attracted to girls?"

"We're not talking about me," Seamus said crossly.

"Yes, we are!" Neville snapped back. "This is all about you and your stupid hang-ups, you - you nitwit! Oh, sod this - " He scrambled to the side of the pool and was just about to pull himself out when he remembered that he was naked except for a thick layer of foam. His annoyance increased. "You'd better turn around if you want to avoid seeing - "

"Seeing what?" Seamus retorted, interrupting him. "You reckon you've got something better than the rest of us?"

Neville stared at him in disbelief. "Who the hell cares one way or the other?"

"Funny, I thought you did!"

 _Is it me or is this conversation totally insane?_ he wondered. "Not really, Seamus!" he replied dryly.

"Oh."

 _Definitely insane,_ Neville decided. Because he could have sworn the other boy actually sounded disappointed. And that was impossible, and even a little alarming.

"So you're really not looking then?"

There was no avoiding it this time; when Neville stared at him, Seamus was definitely looking disappointed.

Maybe it was an ego thing? Maybe the Irish boy didn't care who was looking at him, so long as _somebody_ was? Not that it had ever seemed to Neville that he was lacking in self-confidence or bravado; between them, Seamus and Ron had enough for all five of the seventh year Gryffindor boys. Throw Harry and his enduring (if reluctant) fame into the mix and that was a lot of chutzpah for one dormitory.

"You can't seriously be telling me that you _want_ me to look at you!" he said, a little sharply. "What happened to worrying about me looking in the showers? Besides, _why_ would you want me to? You're straight! You have a girlfriend!" At least, he _thought_ Seamus had a girlfriend. He usually did.

Then the Knut finally dropped.

"Oh please!" he groaned. "I'm forced to out myself to you all, and now you're questioning your sexuality? Is that what this is all about?"

"You make it sound like no one else can be gay!" Seamus said indignantly.

"Don't be a pillock! I really don't care if you're gay, straight, bisexual or - or a cross-dresser!" They both winced. Okay, maybe _not_ a cross-dresser. "But I'm guessing the leather trousers rule that out," Neville added weakly.

"I can promise you I've never fancied trying on Lavender's robes," Seamus assured him, looking rather frightened by the idea.

"They wouldn't fit you," Neville replied. Lavender was tall for a girl, but she had sturdy hips.

"You ... you don't - do you?"

"No! My God, no!" The idea was enough to make him want to drown himself right here in the prefects' bathtub - it was worse than the vision of Snape in his grandmother's dress and hat from their second year DADA class. "I'm gay - and I'm clumsy - but I'm not _weird!_ "

Seamus looked relieved, and they both subsided into the foamy water for a few minutes, recovering from this shattering conversation.

"Look," Neville said after a while, wanting to get this whole business aired so that he could finish his bath in time to join everyone else for dinner in the Great Hall, "if you were gay, I think you'd know about it by now. I mean, you'd have noticed you were - um - thinking stuff. And noticing people."

"I have some pretty kinky dreams sometimes," the Irish boy offered.

Somehow, this was even more frightening an idea than Seamus in a frock. Neville _really_ didn't want him to share the details. His own kinky dreams were hard enough to deal with in the cold light of day.

"And you're right," Seamus added, beginning to grin again. "Harry _does_ look good in his Quidditch gear!"

Great. Harry would die if he found out that _two_ of his dorm-mates were lusting after his admittedly well-toned body.

"Try not to say that in the middle of the dorm, would you?" he sighed. "He has enough problems, without worrying that we're both going to chase him around the locker room after Quidditch."

The other boy snorted a laugh. "He'd take it in his stride! Haven't you noticed that about Harry? He gives a whole new meaning to the word 'calm'."

Which was true, but Neville suspected it was a very hard-won emotional state. Some mornings in the washrooms, he would see a look in The Boy Who Lived's eyes that was all too like the one in his own after a particularly bad nightmare. Probably only Ron and Hermione knew what really went on inside his head.

There were other things besides Harry's physique that attracted Neville, and a sense that they shared certain things - the loss of their parents, the traumatised nights - was a large part of it. Also Harry was such a _nice_ person. Okay, he had his less noble moments and he had a temper that occasionally flared up unexpectedly, but by and large he was a genuinely decent person whom Neville had never felt nervous or uneasy around. He could honestly say that his vague attraction to Seamus was ninety-nine percent physical, whereas with Harry it was mental and emotional. Which was why it had been a bigger blow when Harry said that he didn't feel the same way.

"Maybe so, but I don't fancy getting thrashed by Ron or Hermione for hassling him!" he retorted tartly, resolutely turning his mind away from Harry.

Seamus chuckled. "Oh, I don't know … if you could persuade both of them to do it at the same time, and if Ron was wearing his Keeper's gear - "

Neville shuddered. "Thanks, but neither of them are my type."

"What _is_ your type, Nev?"

That sounded like fishing. Neville peered suspiciously at Seamus, who gazed back at him in wide-eyed innocence. The tiny smirk hovering on his lips ruined the effect, though.

"I don't have a type," he said shortly.

"You must have, if you know what _isn't_ your type," Seamus said reasonably.

Neville started to feel cross. This beating about the bush was not the way he liked to do things; he liked people to be up front with him, even if it involved a hex or a punch on the nose.

"No, I really _don't_. It's not like I've had much chance to find out yet, is it?" he said irritably. "Unlike some, the world isn't tripping over itself to fall into bed with me." He snorted at the image and shook his head. "Look, Seamus, what do you _really_ want from me?"

"A quick shag?"

Okay, maybe there was such a thing as being _too_ up front.

"I don't believe you," he said flatly, "and even if it was true, I wouldn't do it."

Seamus blinked and for a split second he looked hurt. "Why not?"

"Because I'm pretty stupid, but I'm not stupid enough to do it with someone who only started thinking he might be gay a few hours ago." Bitter anger surged up out of nowhere and choked his throat for a few seconds. When he cleared it again, he said curtly, "I'm nobody's experiment." _Even if everyone from my Uncle Algy to Professor Snape does treat me like one of Hagrid's cross-breeding accidents._

"It's not like that," Seamus said, startled by the unguarded expression on Neville's face.

"So what is this then? Did your Divination homework suddenly reveal me to be your soul-mate? Or did the dorm decide to pull straws on who sorts me out before I leave here?"

"Whoa, Nev! Calm down, will you? Jesus!"

Neville shut up, fuming.

Seamus eyed him warily for a moment or two, running a hand over his wet hair nervously.

"Look," he said carefully. "I don't know what the hell you think is happening here, but if you think I'm taking the piss out of you, then I'm telling you I'm not. Honest to God."

Neville struggled for a moment, but couldn't contain himself. "You say that, but people are always taking the piss out of me!"

"Not us! Not the Gryffindors - "

"Lavender and Parvati do," Neville muttered.

"Lavender and Parvati are stupid tarts," Seamus retorted, and was rewarded by a sudden ironically raised brow.

"I thought you and Lavender were dead tight," Neville commented with unexpected dryness.

"Yeah, when Lavender can't find some other mug to sweet-talk her. She'd even go out with Malfoy if he gave her the chance." Seamus wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Nice girl, but a bit shallow. I reckon she's got her eye on Harry this time - I'd better warn him."

"So you're here with me because Lavender's got bigger fish to fry?"

"I had no idea you were so cynical," Seamus remarked. "Look - I'll lay all my cards on the table, okay?"

"Okay," Neville replied warily.

"I know it looks a bit funny, but honestly - this isn't the first time I've wondered if I might be gay." Seamus grinned wryly. "Harry in his Quidditch gear and all that. Reminds me how much I missed Oliver Wood when he left."

Neville felt a twinge of reluctant empathy. He'd had a chronic crush on Wood in the Third Year; there was something really compelling about single-minded intensity coupled with tight Quidditch trousers. Not that he'd recognised it as a crush at the time, or would ever have done anything about it.

"That said," the Irish boy continued, "I haven't said anything before because … well, you know. It's not really something we all talk about. And I wasn't sure how people would react. So when you said you were gay, it got me thinking again. And yeah, I know, I acted like a prat last night, but I didn't know how to react. It was a big surprise, you know?"

Neville considered this, and reluctantly concluded that Seamus was being honest with him.

"Okay," he said slowly. "But I still don't think we should … you know."

Seamus looked at him. "Have you ever had sex with anyone?"

Neville turned a violent red. "No. Like I said, people aren't exactly falling over themselves to get at me."

"So maybe this is a good opportunity," Seamus said bluntly.

Neville looked at him. "That's it? Just a good opportunity?"

The other boy shrugged. "I'm being honest with you here," he pointed out. "I'm not swearing undying love or trying to tell you that this is going to be the big romance of either of our lives. I've got a lot I want to do with my life before I start thinking of settling down with anyone, and I'm guessing it's the same for you. But maybe that's a good thing, because at least we're friends and we know where we stand with each other. And it's safe - you know I'm not going to leave here and broadcast it around the school for laughs. So ... let's have a go, find out what it's all about, blow off a little steam together. We might neither of us get another opportunity like this."

Then his unusual solemnity slipped and he winked at Neville, grinning. "Besides – bubblebath! What more could you ask for?"

 _A private room, clean linen sheets, candle-light and romance,_ Neville thought wryly. That had been his private fantasy for his first time. But Seamus had a point. Maybe it wasn't about romance the first time anyway. If he got lucky and didn't kill himself in an accident before the end of term, or die in the war that seemed to be looming on the horizon, maybe there would be time for romance later in his life. And it would be good if he had at least a little experience under his belt before he met that special person.

"All right then," he said, and hoped that none of the prefects returned from Hogsmeade early.

xXx

"What happened to you?" Ron demanded of Seamus when the Irish boy took his seat at the dinner table. "We waited for nearly an hour at the Three Broomsticks for you, but you never showed up!"

Seamus shrugged carelessly. "I changed my mind."

Neville made the most of the chorus of outrage from Dean and Ron at this and slipped unobtrusively into his seat next to Hermione. She glanced up from the book she was reading and gave him a distracted smile.

"How was your detention?"

He began to serve himself – very carefully – from the dish of roast potatoes in front of him, thinking frantically.

"It's probably quite nice in the greenhouses at the moment," a quiet voice said from the other side of the table, and Neville looked up, meeting Harry's knowing green eyes. He felt a familiar lurch in his stomach. They looked at each other for a moment, and Harry's left brow went up slightly.

"It was ... explosive," Neville said carefully. Yes, that described it quite well.

Hermione utterly missed the subtext. "What?" she demanded sharply.

"The dragon dung," he clarified, and at once she looked concerned.

"Oh Neville, you haven't burned yourself _again?_ "

"No, not this time."

Not really. It wasn't like he felt that way about Seamus, after all. It had definitely been interesting but he wouldn't bear any emotional scars over the Irish boy. Not like he would have done had it been Harry. Which it wouldn't be. Ever. But he could live with that.

Neville continued serving himself and even managed to pour gravy over his dinner without spilling it on himself or the tablecloth. Hermione went back to her book, and Ron and Dean continued to argue with an increasingly flustered Seamus. Now wasn't _that_ weird? By comparison Neville felt quite cool and calm, and began to eat his meal with good appetite.

Under the cover of everyone else's conversation Harry suddenly caught his attention again. The dark-haired boy pointedly touched his fingers to his own neck and mimed pulling the collar of his robes up. His eyes widened in warning.

What? Oh! Suddenly flustered, Neville quickly pulled the neck of his robe over a mark which he hadn't realised was there. Harry grinned at him and ducked his head, turning his attention back to his own dinner.

So much for no one knowing. How the hell had Harry guessed so easily? Did the mark on his neck have a big, pink, flashing sign on it saying "Seamus woz 'ere"? But at least it _was_ Harry, who knew how to keep his mouth shut. Or Neville _hoped_ he knew how to keep his mouth shut, especially around Ron. The redhead was subject to occasional, random lapses in discretion and there would be no peace in the dormitory if he found out.

But Harry clearly wasn't disturbed by this revelation, for which Neville was grateful. Meanwhile, the argument two or three seats away was turning mischievous and for once the tables were turned on Seamus.

"Look, mate," Ron was saying, in an oh-so-reasonable tone, "if you were off shagging some girl, why didn't you just say so? But you don't just stand up your mates like that."

"Because I _wasn't,_ " Seamus said through gritted teeth. "There was no girl."

 _Why doesn't he just lie?_ Neville wondered, a little amused. Then again, the more he denied it, the more certain they would be that he _had_ been off somewhere with a girl. Perhaps the Irishman was just being canny.

"He was probably waxing his leather trousers," Dean commented, and Ron pounced on this statement with a snort of laughter.

"Yeah – rubbing it well into the creases."

"Oiling them - "

" - Lovingly manipulating them – "

" – So that they're good and soft in all those important places – "

" – And don't creak or squeak at the wrong moment – "

 _"MERLIN'S JOCKSTRAP!"_ Seamus flung his fork down with a clatter. Lavender Brown tutted disapprovingly into the sudden hush at their end of the table. "I swear Fred and George'll never be gone while _you_ two are still here!"

He pushed his plate away and stormed off, followed by a two-tone chorus of "Ooo-ooh, get _her!_ "

"Children!" Hermione muttered, turning a page.

Neville paused for a second, looking at his year-mates with affection, and decided that it wasn't such a bad life after all.


End file.
